Sara Orwig - Her Torrid Temporary Marriage

He turned to slant her a curious glance. “Are you with me?”

“Yes!” Burning with embarrassment because he had caught her studying his hips, she caught up and walked beside him into a large, comfortable family room, in forest green and brown decor, with a stone fireplace. A game table stood in one corner and an antique rifle was mounted above the fireplace. The furniture was large, as if it had been selected for a tall man. She crossed the room to a wall paneled in knotty pine and covered with pictures.

“That’s the rogues’ gallery,” Josh remarked, coming to stand beside her, his shoulder lightly brushing hers. “Here’s great-grandpa Daniel Brand.”

“Who tried to kill my great-grandfather,” she said with amusement as she moved closer to look at the faded picture of a bearded man with a beak of a nose above a thick mustache.

“I think it was the other way around,” Josh replied lightly, and she laughed.

“At least by the time our fathers took over the ranches, they weren’t shooting at each other. They just didn’t speak unless they had to.”

“That’s Daniel’s rifle mounted over the fireplace. He made that table,” Josh said, pointing to a sturdy, simple table that had nicks in the legs from hard use. He pointed to a picture of horses on the opposite wall. “My grandfather hung that picture. It was his favorite, so we’ve always kept it. The little rocker was my grandmother’s chair.”

“Your roots go back like my family’s.” Mattie moved along the row of pictures, examining another faded photograph of a dark-skinned, black-haired woman and Daniel Brand.

“That was Daniel’s wife, Little Star. She was full-blood Kiowa.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

“We have more Kiowa blood. Here’s the next generation. Grandpa Isaac was a half-breed. He married Summer Setaingia, another full-blood—here’s her picture,” Josh said, pointing to another husband-wife portrait that bore a family resemblance to Josh in their dark eyes and hair and prominent cheekbones. Mattie gazed at the pictures, but she was more aware of the tall man standing so close beside her, his body lightly touching hers. She walked along, gazing at pictures until she came to one that featured a small boy with brown eyes, flowing black hair and a cocky grin. She knew it had to be Josh. “This is you.”

“Yeah. Mom put these up. I’ve never bothered changing them, nor did Lisa.”

“This is the house you grew up in?”

“Yes. This room and the first two bedrooms are the original house that my great-grandpa Daniel built. Dad redid the kitchen and added the other rooms. After Dad died, Mom remarried and moved to Chicago. When Lisa and I married, we moved in here. Lisa had the house remodeled, but she didn’t change much in this room or the dining room. The dining room table was my grandfather’s. And there are a few old tables here that belonged to great-grandpa Daniel.”

“Sounds like our house.”

They moved to an adjoining formal living room that had an off-white carpet and the same forest green color in the upholstered furniture. “Lisa did this room over. I’m hardly ever in it,” he said in a flat voice, and Mattie realized that every time he mentioned his wife, he sounded pained.

She followed him into a dining room that held a long mahogany table with twelve chairs. A silver tea service gleamed on the polished sideboard. “You have a nice home.”

“Thanks. The bedrooms are down the hall,” he said casually. “Want to sit outside with me while I grill steaks?”

“Sure,” she answered, thinking both of them had roots that went far back in tune. Their backgrounds were the same, but there the similarities ended.

He returned to the kitchen to get a platter of steaks, and they stepped outside to a deck where he motioned toward lawn chairs. “Sit down while I cook these. Rosalie already prepared potatoes and carrots, so dinner’ll be ready soon.”

As soon as the steaks were on, he pulled a chair close and sat down facing her.

“You really have a beautiful place,” she remarked.

“The ranch has done well. I hear you just acquired two new quarter horses from Ed Williams’s stables.”

“I’m trying to improve our stock.”

“That should do it.” He studied her, and every time he gave her one of his long intense looks, she felt ensnared and at a disadvantage, as if he were trying to see into her soul and succeeding. “You don’t object to my Indian blood, do you?”

“Of course not,” she replied, startled.

He shrugged broad shoulders. “I didn’t think you would, but some might. I run into occasional prejudice.”

“It isn’t you who’s causing my objections to your proposal—it’s me. I don’t know anything about babies.”

“It doesn’t take long to learn,” he replied in an offhanded tone as if the whole matter were settled in his mind. She wondered how many things in his life didn’t go the way he wanted. He had lost his wife and father, but other than that, she suspected he usually did what he wanted and got what he wanted.

He went to the grill, and she watched him turn the steaks, her gaze running down his back to his narrow waist, over his trim backside. Her husband? Impossible! Her pulse skittered at the thought.

In minutes they sat down in the kitchen to thick steaks, baked potatoes, crisp steamed carrots with slices of homemade bread.

“You’re a good cook.”

“Thanks, but Rosalie gets most of the credit. I don’t do bread. Are you riding in the July rodeo?”

She shook her head. “I don’t participate as much as I used to. How about you?”

“I’ll be in calf roping.”

They discussed ranch life, and she felt as if her nerves were stretching to a breaking point She wanted to get to the subject, decline his offer and go home to her peaceful life. Even if it was lonely. Yet the man across the table from her was handsome and charming. A tiny bubbling excitement tugged at her, and she tried to ignore it.

When they finished eating, he refused to let her help him clean up. “It should be cooler out now. Let’s walk, and I’ll show you the barn.”

She nodded, although she was tempted to give a firm no to his proposal and go home. She suspected he wanted to show off his ranch, but she didn’t dare give a thought to becoming part of it.

The sun was slanting toward the western horizon when they went outside, and a slight breeze had sprung up. His house was a fenced oasis with a green lawn and beds of blooming flowers. Sprinklers slowly revolved, sending sparkling silver streams over the grass. Two tall live oaks spread branches above the lawn, creating cool shade in the late hours. A picket fence surrounded the backyard, and they followed a winding walk toward the gate.

“Why can’t your mother come stay for a time until you hire a nanny?”

“Mom is busy. My stepfather is Thornton Bridges. He’s a state representative, and he has his sights set on running for the Senate next election. They have a busy social life, and Mom is into a lot of charities. She’d be glad to take Elizabeth to Chicago, but I don’t want to give up my daughter.”

Breezes tugged at Mattie’s hair as she lifted her face and gazed across his rolling land. In the distance she could see a herd of white-faced Herefords grazing. They left a flagstone path, went through a gate and followed the wide, graveled driveway toward the large barn. A collie came bounding up, frisking around Josh.

“Down, Grady,” he said gently, and the dog fell into step behind them.

She glanced at Josh surreptitiously, unable to imagine why he had selected her in spite of what he had told her. He had so many choices. Suddenly the butterflies in her stomach were back, fluttering wildly. Dinner was over, and she had to tell him no, for once and for all time.